Today I’ve felt squirmy about money, mostly because my therapist recently encouraged me to “make a plan” to make some. And whereas I don’t have any problem making a plan, I do have a problem with all the issues money brings up for me–worthiness, people pleasing, and so on. Granted, these issues aren’t nearly as “heavy” as they used to be. I’ve made a lot of progress. Still, it’s almost always a challenge for me to hold the line or stand up for myself when it comes to my personal value. This last summer I challenged a former client who tried to pull a fast one and get me to work for half my quoted and agreed upon rate and was nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof.

But I did it.

As far as I can tell, this is how we grow and move forward. Not steadily, but with our knees shaking. Ugh. Anytime I’ve broken up with an ex, distanced myself from a friend, or challenged a client, everything in me wanted to throw up. And whereas at one time I would have let this feeling of nausea convince me to NOT say something, I eventually learned that it was my signal TO say something. Like, I’m just going to keep feeling like shit if I don’t. The good part being that every single time I’ve stepped outside my comfort zone and done the thing I was afraid of doing, my comfort zone has later increased in size. Mark Twain said it this way: “Do the thing you fear, and the death of fear is certain.” Another benefit being that for the rest of my life I can’t tell myself I CAN’T stand up for myself–because I have time and time again. Even if it’s never FUN for me, I can’t say I can’t.

After having a wonderful experience with myofascial release and a tuning fork this last week, tonight I went down a rabbit hole and started reading Tuning the Human Biofield: Healing with Vibrational Sound Therapy by Eileen Day McKusick. (So far, it’s fascinating.) In it McKusick maps the human energy system, noting where certain emotions or issues typically get stuck in the body. For instance, she says the health of our knees relate to how we’re moving forward in life and that if you have problems with your left knee (which, um, I had surgery on mine just over a year ago) it can indicate that you have a difficult time letting go, either of things or an old story about yourself. For me, this resonates as true. For example, I’ve spent so much of my life in one income bracket that, despite the constant encouragement of my therapist that I can move to a different (higher) one, it’s difficult for me to fully believe and embody this fact.

You know, I get queasy.

Another mind/body/emotion connection McKusick mentions that resonates with me is that right hip (sciatic) issues often have to do with being chronically busy. “The hip of overdoing,” she calls it. Ugh. Somewhere along the way I got it in my head that you have to try, try, try, push, push, push. And yet for all my staying busy and really working my ass off, lately I’ve had some healing experiences that were, well, just the easiest thing. In an instant, my body let go. Likewise, some of the best money I’ve ever made has not only been the most fun, but has also required the least amount of work. What’s the saying? Easy money.

Byron Katie says that’s everything’s a story, and I suppose that this blog is largely my effort to rewrite mine. To change the way I think and speak about money, my relationships, and how easy or difficult life and healing are. And whereas it’s been a process, it’s working. More and more I’m believing that the stories I grew up believing about me and my body and what we’re capable of were at the best incomplete, at the worst flat wrong. Ugh. I wish I could just cross these stories out, throw them away, start over. In writing this is called “killing your darlings,” scrapping your beloved creations because they’re just not working, just not serving your overall plot. Alas, killing your belief-darlings is a slower process. Not because it’s difficult to see what’s not working, but because old beliefs die hard and new beliefs take time to take root, sprout, blossom, bear fruit. And so I remind myself, Be patient, sweetheart. Trust the process. Your story is far from over.